


Pride & Punishment

by theclaravoyant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Domme!Jemma, F/F, Masterbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Spanking, Strap-On, Sub!Bobbi, Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 23:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9851195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: Prompt: “Bobbi should have known better this kind of goddamn punishment would of course happened when she realised she accidentally threw away Jemma’s vintage of the Beatles’ ‘Help!' because it was sandwiched between a bunch of old files.”Contains punishment & cocky!Bobbi, & some mild humiliation.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still taking Femslash Feb prompts (both smutty & non-smutty) both in the comments below, or on tumblr (@theclaravoyant). I reserve the right to refuse a prompt but I will give you the opportunity to suggest another if I turn it down.
> 
> To the people who requested this, in regards to your second question, I will happily accept Bobbi x Nat prompts, but I decide what to fill on a prompt-by-prompt basis. If it contains something I'm not comfortable with or don't know about, I may still choose not to write it.
> 
> [Here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/ApplePie_BananaMilkshakes/profile#faq) are some guidelines for anyone who wishes to send me a prompt. In the meantime, enjoy!

Jemma paced in front of Bobbi, her legs elongated by heeled leather boots that reached up to her knee. She had on fierce red lipstick and a black corset, and in one hand a short black riding crop, which she swatted through the air as she moved, exuding waves of aggressive power. Bobbi knelt before her, on her hands and knees, keeping her head down. 

“Do you know why you are here?” Jemma demanded, stopping in front of Bobbi. When she received no reply, she stroked the leather of the crop down Bobbi’s cheek and under her chin, and pushed Bobbi’s head up. Glaring, she repeated the question. 

“Do you know why you are here?” 

“Yes, Ma’am.” Bobbi nodded, but the crop continued to hold her chin up. Her answer was insufficient. “I – I lost your favourite record. I was careless.” 

“And?” Jemma growled. 

“And I failed to apologise.” 

Jemma raised an eyebrow and forced Bobbi’s chin higher, so that her neck was straining. Bobbi didn’t sit back, though it would have naturally brought her eye-level higher. Peering up at Jemma from this angle was the whole point. 

“Do you apologise _now?”_ Jemma demanded. Bobbi bit her lip, but couldn’t stop a flash of cheek crossing her expression. 

“No.” 

Jemma snarled, and whipped the crop through the empty air, a safe but spine-tingling few inches from Bobbi’s face. 

“Then there’s nothing for it but to discipline you. You understand.” 

“Yes, Ma’am, I do.” 

Bobbi lowered her head, grateful for the wall of hair that tumbled over to hide her smug smile. Jemma was in a rough mood tonight and if she had to push a few buttons to feel that thrill, she would. Already, she could hear Jemma rummaging through their box of accessories. A leathery _thwap,_ significantly more substantial than the crop’s sharp one, alerted Bobbi to just what she had decided upon for her first move: a leather paddle. 

Jemma’s hand grabbed Bobbi’s bare buttock, suddenly and roughly, and massaged it without mercy; one, then the other. Following that, the sting of the paddle. Bobbi hissed as pleasure and pain sung through her.

“We will continue –“ _slap_

“Until you acknowledge –“ _slap_

“Your wrongdoing –“ _slap_

“Or until –“ _slap_

“I –“ _slap_

“Am satisfied.” 

 _Slap._ Bobbi bit her lip and tried not to arch into it. The smacks had been coming closer and closer together until Jemma stopped all of a sudden, and the waves of sensation all seemed to catch up and tumble over each other, an onslaught against her sensitive nerves. Her pussy tingled, core coiling, but she barely gave Jemma the satisfaction of a shiver. Jemma growled. 

“You continue to be insolent?” she challenged, digging her fingers into Bobbi’s hair and forcing her to look up again. “Get up. On your knees. Hold your ankles.” 

Bobbi obeyed, but pushed her chest out proudly as she saw that Jemma seemed to be fuming.

“Are we frustrated, Ma’am?” 

“Hush,” Jemma snapped, digging through the box again, right to the bottom. Bobbi smiled to herself, seeing the frantic edge to Jemma’s movements. Perhaps Jemma had worked herself into more of a hot flush than she’d intended. Perhaps she was wet already and desirous of Bobbi’s attentions, but unwilling to ask to be undone so early, when she had not yet achieved the other kind of satisfaction. 

“Would you like me to attend to you, Ma’am?” Bobbi asked. 

“No,” Jemma insisted, though there was an element of realisation to her voice, as if she’d only just thought of something. “No. I can attend to myself and you, and your mouthy mouth, can sit out.” 

Jemma pulled two lengths of rope from the box and Bobbi felt a chill at the sight of her sharp, determined eyes. How had she worked herself into this trap? Of course Jemma had seen through her attempts to snark and tease, and now she was arranging Bobbi’s arms so that her hands held her elbows behind her back, and were tied into position. Jemma grabbed her bound arms and hauled her to her feet, and marched her over to the corner of the room to grab a chair and then back to the middle. 

“Sit.” 

The chair was pointed at the bed. The large, luxurious bed with its pillows and quilts to die for. _I can attend to myself,_ Jemma had sworn. Bobbi whimpered at the realisation. 

“No, Mistress – Ma’am – please,” she begged. “I’ll be good, I want to help.” 

Jemma smiled. It was rare that she got a _Mistress_ out of Bobbi, unless she was feeling particularly submissive. Surely she’d be realising the error of her ways – and yet, she still hadn’t apologised, as requested. 

“You must learn to think about the consequences of your actions,” Jemma explained. “Now, sit. Don’t make me ask again.”

With a whimper, Bobbi let Jemma push her into the chair and bind her to it. Jemma retrieved a spreader bar from beside the bed for good measure, and put it through the chair’s legs, stretching Bobbi’s legs out so that she wouldn’t be able to leverage herself against the chair for friction. Then she stepped slowly, tantalisingly back toward the bed, and sat so that her legs were spread and her fingers, her touching herself, would be directly in Bobbi’s view.

“Consequences,” Jemma repeated, drawing a finger up and down her thighs, “of disrespecting your Mistress involve not being allowed to _respect_ her. Not being allowed to _touch_ or _taste_ her, or hear her calling _your_ name….” 

Jemma shivered at her own attentions as her fingers slid deeper and touched and circled. It had been a long time since she’d touched herself instead of having Bobbi do it, and it was more gratifying than she’d expected - not least because of the additional pleasure that came from doing it all in front of Bobbi’s melting expression. Gone was the superiority and cockiness, and instead there was desire and desperation, as if Bobbi wanted nothing more in the world than to put her tongue where Jemma’s fingers touched and played. Yet still, she did not apologise, so Jemma lowered herself backward until the cool flush of satin sheets rubbed against her bare flesh. She lifted her legs so that her knees were bent and her booted heels were raising her buttocks and shining with elegance and power. There were times when she would let Bobbi, when she would ask Bobbi, when she would _command_ that Bobbi take her like this, with her fingers or her tongue or a dildo, when she felt like it, but tonight there was only her. 

“Mm, I’m enjoying this,” she purred, letting herself writhe and twist as she continued to touch and slowly, to fuck herself with her own fingers, letting Bobbi’s whimpers and gasps fuel her. Her voice began to quiver as an orgasm coiled in her belly. “Perhaps it’s true what they say. If you want something done right, you’ve got to – to do it yourself.”

Her breath caught and she pounded into herself harder, climbing those last few feet with gusto as she reached the crest of orgasm. Bobbi moaned and Jemma gasped and gasped and gasped. Let her hear the true cost of her insolence. Let her senses be filled with Jemma’s throbbing pleasure; pleasure that she had not brought. Jemma smirked. Let her learn a lesson. 

Taking her time, Jemma rolled back to a sitting position. Bobbi had strained at her ropes to no avail, and the second her eyes met Jemma’s they were deep and pleading. 

“Please! _Please_ Mistress, let me make it up to you!” she begged. “What can I do to prove myself?”

Her eyes were wild with her need for Jemma’s approval, and Jemma wondered if Bobbi would obey if she asked her to walk out onto the street like this. She wouldn’t – they’d agreed not to – but so base was her desire. Jemma related well, but she hummed as if she pitied poor Bobbi instead. 

“There’s my good girl,” she crooned, sliding her still-wet fingers into Bobbi’s mouth. “A little taste of what you missed, hm? For your humility.” 

Bobbi kissed Jemma’s fingers clean, purring in satisfaction. 

“Thank you, Ma’am.” 

“Mm, I think we’ll stick with Mistress for a while yet,” Jemma instructed. She watched a flicker of insolence pass through Bobbi’s eyes, but this time, Bobbi lowered her chin. 

“Yes Mistress. Understood.” 

“Good.” With that assurance, Jemma began to undo Bobbi’s ties. “We can’t have any more of these misunderstandings arising, now can we?” 

“No Ma-…Mistress, of course not.” 

“You are _mine,_ poppet,” Jemma crooned, stroking Bobbi’s hair though her expression was dangerously dark and bold. “My word is law. You obey as soon as I speak it. Before I speak, even. Anticipate me.” 

“Yes, Mistress.” 

“ _Anticipate,”_ Jemma repeated. “What might I want from a prideful sub who’s stepped out of her line, hm? What would help you learn not to speak out of turn again?”

“I –“ 

Jemma pulled Bobbi out of the chair and shoved her toward the bed. 

“Show me,” she ordered, and Bobbi climbed onto the bed. Her body trembled with Jemma’s clipped words and rough touch. Jemma was doing an unexpectedly good job of scaring and instructing, praising and training, and Bobbi almost wanted to snog her silly and forget all the games. She’d apologise a thousand times for the lost record, if it meant laughing about tiny tough Jemma with her as they rolled around in these sheets. But Bobbi had been enjoying this too, and she could still feel where her buttocks stung from their spanking and as she had walked those few steps to the bed she had felt how wet she’d become watching Jemma literally rub her own pleasure in Bobbi’s face. She could taste Jemma on her now, and her muscles ached for more. Even now, Jemma was watching her with hungry eyes. The ball was in her court, Jemma’s attentions raised. Even the instruction had handed control over to her. 

_Show me._

And just like that, Bobbi knew what to do. What would quell her rebellious streak, what would satisfy Jemma’s inner vixen-dominatrix. She stretched out and slid her hands along the blankets for a while, rolling in luxury and showing off her curves and shifting muscles while she knew Jemma was watching them. Then she rolled onto her belly and pressed her cheek against the sheets, and reached back to hold her ankles, slipping a pillow under her hips to intensify the angle at which she could raise them, offering her pussy back to Jemma. 

“Fuck me, Mistress,” she begged. “Then I’ll learn to be sorry and I’ll be sure to be humble, once I’ve been full of you and reminded of your claim.” 

Jemma groaned at the suggestion, eager to leap at Bobbi and suck her dry, but at the same time yearning to do as she’d suggested. Fuck her. Dominate her. Screw writhing and moaning in pleasure, she wanted Bobbi gasping until she screamed. 

“Excellent suggestion,” Jemma praised, in a smooth and sultry tone, deep enough that it sent a shiver through her – and through Bobbi. She returned to the crate of toys and selected a large, black strap-on, and rubbed lube over it as she returned to Bobbi and climbed onto the bed. She clasped Bobbi’s shoulder and the sheets for leverage.

“Remember, you don’t cum until you apologise,” she growled, and thrust into Bobbi’s entrance with spine-tingling force. Bobbi’s wet, eager pussy swallowed her up, and Bobbi would have thrown her head back had the angle allowed it. As it was, she closed her eyes and felt Jemma slide into her, stretching and filling her and finally satisfying the yearning emptiness that had plagued her all night. 

“Thank you, Mistress,” she moaned. 

Jemma didn’t respond. Instead, satisfied that Bobbi could take her, she pulled herself into a furious, frenetic pace. Bobbi gave a sharp gasp, but managed to follow it with “Oh God, don’t stop.” Jemma was glad for the assurance, as she’d set herself the challenge and was right on track to achieve it. _Gasping until she screamed._ Growling, Jemma moved harder and faster, slamming into Bobbi with a furious fire. Bobbi struggled to catch her breath, gasping and groaning as the sharp, rapid movements shook her entire body. Their hips and thighs slapped together and Jemma gritted her teeth to keep them on track, frowning with concentration until a grin broke out when she felt them cross a border. When she heard Bobbi start to gasp – gasp – gasp. 

“You don’t cum until you apologise,” Jemma reminded her.

“I’m – sorry,” the words all but spilled from her lips, only disrupted by her gasping breath and jerking body. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, let me cum.” 

Jemma dug deep and tweaked the cluster of nerves that pushed Bobbi over – and yes, she screamed. She shrieked wordlessly as her orgasm hit like an eruption, stars splintering behind her eyes. She finally let go of her ankles, her posture collapsing as Jemma slowed and pulled out, and dug her hands into the blanket to find Bobbi’s clit and rub her through her orgasm. The waves of pleasure were drawn out by her touch, and Bobbi found herself released onto a plane of clouds and softness. 

“See what I can do for you?” Jemma pointed out, still rubbing slowly, gently. “See what your Mistress can do for you when you behave?” 

“Yes, Ma’am.” Bobbi sighed. Jemma smiled, and gently kissed her way up Bobbi’s body to her lips. Bobbi’s shoulders and chest were still heaving and her kisses were interrupted by her need for breath, but Jemma didn’t mind. They were just a reassurance, a little bit of closure, as Jemma removed her strap-on and her heels and settled in to cuddle Bobbi instead. After a few more moments of relaxing silence, they had settled into an easy, gentle spoon position. Jemma, the big spoon, had her finger draped over Bobbi’s hips in quiet ownership and Bobbi had her eyes closed, preening in perfect bliss. 

“You know I am going to replace that record though, right?” Bobbi checked.

“’Course you are, babe,” Jemma replied, “or we might just have to do this again.” 

Bobbi laughed, and nestled closer to her. 

“Don’t tempt me.”


End file.
